I Just Wanted to Pee Alone

There is a moment that moms universally dream of … going to the bathroom alone. It is in these sweet minute(s), I aimlessly scroll through Pinterest, read two sentences of the scholarly article my husband sent me, or catch up on a comment on Facebook. It is short, sweet, and mindless. Heck, if I happen to bring a cup of coffee and breakfast in there, don’t judge me. There’s running water and silence. 

Today was no different. I woke up way too early to the sweet face of my toddler standing at the edge of my bed explaining how she was hungry. The morning went on as normal. I finally sat down at my desk. Birdie played and built a Lincoln Log mansion and enjoyed a tea party with her best stuffed friends. All in all an easy morning. I walked to the restroom; she didn’t follow. Admittedly I thought this would be one of the beautiful times I got a few more minutes of peace. There was silence. Sweet, sweet silence … unless you are the mom of a toddler. Then the silence broke. The unmistakeable sound of scissors closing. 
I do believe it was the fastest I have ever gotten up from the restroom. I hobbled out pulling up my jeans with one hand. At first I didn’t see anything of concern. The kitchen scissors were on the ground and it appeared she’d been cutting paper. 

We had a short talk about how we ask for scissors and never take them from the drawers. She sweetly asked me for the scissors again and told me she “just wanted to cut hair.”

I told her no as I ran my fingers through her hair, and that’s when it happened. the blonde locks started falling to the ground. I wanted to scream. I wanted to put her in time out forever. 

In my calmest of voices I asked her if we could sit on the counter as I brushed out her hair. She nodded and reached up her arms. As I brushed through what was left of her hair, I realized there was no getting around it, her hair was about to be short. I took a deep breath as the last of the little baby curls fell to the ground. We talked about who plays with scissors and appropriate people to cut our hair.

In the end, she loved the way her hair spun and that her “feathers” were so soft at the end, and I learned two valuable lessons. 

  1. No matter how small, where there is a will there is a way. My child wanted shorter hair. She found a way.
  2. No moment of peace, no matter how necessary … quiet time in the bathroom or any room comes at a price. 
Whitney is a born and raised Louisianian. Her passions lie in playground sports, keeping a messy home (much to the dismay of the husband), drinking lots of caffeine, dancing in the kitchen, getting (well trying to get) her booty in shape, and making people smile. She devotes her time to three things that fall very close to her heart: her little family, her weenie pup, and the urge to never stop creating. She married to a gentlemen that is her opposite. He though a pilot, is firmly grounded while she spends most of her time with her head in the clouds. She is a step-mom and mom of two girls, and finds motherhood is a bizarre dichotomy of grace and chaos. As a family they make life work with amazingly creative grilled cheese sandwiches, streamers, Steen's Syrup, and maybe a bubble bath. Each day she chases paper rainbows and lives the southern narrative.


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